So I spent about an hour last night ranting about how shitty my existence has been. Recently graduated, I’ve always maintained that, beyond the age of 18 your parents shouldn’t have to take care of you; you are recognized as an adult by society so you should be able to conduct yourself as such in terms of maturity and ability. Despite this, I went to college on my parents’ dime[s] to fund my lifestyle (although not my education, I’m proud to maintain) and every time I had to ask my parents for money, I was acutely aware that I was still pretty much a living, breathing, two-legged parasite…who shared the genetic code of her hosts. I’m sure there’s an evolutionary tidbit to be shared at this point, but I have none at the moment.
Anyway, I was pretty upset since, having been licensed to practice in the field, I have not been able to. While there’s a surmountable demand for my profession, I lack what everyone wants, experience. Considering that I just graduated and spent my entire life studying instead of working, it’s to be expected…but it’s still not wanted.
Like Alzheimer’s or Huntington’s.
And unemployment is never a fun thing for anyone, but for someone like me whose amount of pride is negatively correlated to my height (I think I’m considered a midget in a few states), this is particularly frustrating. I don’t like the idea of being 22 and living in my parents’ home without contributing to our income in any capacity. I feel that, at this point, I should be able to do something other than driving my sick mommy to different doctor’s appointments. I don’t mind it and I’m glad I can help her out, but this isn’t what I went to school for 16+ years for. It’s not as if I haven’t tried to seek out jobs, I’ve probably sent out maybe 3 dozen applications to several positions in about half a dozen different hospitals. Daddy insists that it’s my people skills and that I need to jazz up my resume.
He likes to forget that the world has changed since the new century; resumes have been replaced by application forms that ask questions and prompts to eliminate people who don’t qualify for the position and, at this point for me, it’s not about what you know, it’s who you know. And people happen to like me thank you very much (just as long as they didn’t help birth me).
In any case, the job hunt has been frustrating to say the least, and disheartening at the worst; losing the passion to apply and keep my head up in face of automated rejection letters (like getting broken up with over a text message) hurts a lot more than just being annoyed at not being to find a job. The best I’ve been able to do is get a call interview, which went really well since the woman on the line and I bonded over knitting. Of course, the day after I got yet another email telling me I was no longer being considered for the position.
Insert depression here.
Then, around 10:46 this morning, I got a call. Apparently, while I wasn’t being considered for a particular spot I applied for, I’m still eligible for one of my other positions. I have an interview tomorrow at 12:30. I’m a little freaked. But I’m really excited. I’m also worried that I’ll go in there and it’ll be awkward and I’ll produce pungent word vomit that leads to me sharing about that one time I had to take off my shirt in a fast-food parking lot because I had actual vomit on said shirt and between my toes.
…Gawd I’d better not be that stupid.
Speaking of stupid, I remembered why I don’t dress myself; shopping for something to wear in public, let alone something to wear in a professional setting, bores me to tears. Everything I like is made of cotton and simple, while I’m apparently supposed to go to this interview in something a dominatrix granny keeps in her closet. Pass. But I digress…
Also, I know it sounds super pretentious to say this, but I’ll be okay even if I don’t get it. This is my first interview of my life for a job I actually want; it’s understandable if I don’t get it. I’d really like to get it, and become a productive member of society instead of being a money-sucking sloth, but even if I don’t, I’ll be okay with it. Because at least this time, there will be an actual human being to reject me in person. Daunting, yes, but a little relieving in some way; at least I’ll have known that someone actually saw me instead of what I filled out on a piece of [electronic] paper.
It’s strange, but even the idea of failing tomorrow makes me feel just a little better. Because even if it’s a failed interview, it’s an interview that I managed to get into. And that’s one step closer than I’d ever been before, so while it’s probably as small as me, it’s a victory. I will wave it proud, with the following in mind:
The Turtle is always further ahead than where he was yesterday - a friend.
No comments:
Post a Comment